


If Dionne Warwick Starts Singing, I'm Totally Kicking Your Ass

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-30
Updated: 2010-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><span class="ljuser ljuser-name_listedheart"><a href="http://listedheart.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://listedheart.livejournal.com/"><b>listedheart</b></a></span> wanted fic from Pete's post-FOB hiatus depression (referenced <a href="http://icecreamhdaches.livejournal.com/1866637.html">here</a>).</p>I'm pretty sure it was actually in Seattle that Pete got into the fight, because he was here for the Jingle Bell Bash and they flew home the next day and that's when the pictures were posted, Kerrang!, jeez. Get it right. Also, if they were at a New York night club, they wouldn't be flying home).
    </blockquote>





	If Dionne Warwick Starts Singing, I'm Totally Kicking Your Ass

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://listedheart.livejournal.com/profile)[**listedheart**](http://listedheart.livejournal.com/) wanted fic from Pete's post-FOB hiatus depression (referenced [here](http://icecreamhdaches.livejournal.com/1866637.html)).
> 
> I'm pretty sure it was actually in Seattle that Pete got into the fight, because he was here for the Jingle Bell Bash and they flew home the next day and that's when the pictures were posted, Kerrang!, jeez. Get it right. Also, if they were at a New York night club, they wouldn't be flying home). 

  


Gabe takes one look at Pete and doesn't say a word. He doesn't have to, because Gabe is fucking _eloquent_ with his eyebrows. He steals Pete's phone instead and makes a few calls while they're sitting in the Sea-Tac airport. Pete doesn't ask questions. Asking means talking and talking makes his face hurt. Makes his face hurt _more_.

"My dad's a doctor," Gabe states, like that explains everything, and then he pampers Pete on the plane, playing it all up to the stewardess or whatever he's supposed to call them now. Pete's pretty sure she thinks they're a couple, but then, half of the world who knows who they are thinks or hopes that anyway, so he can't care too much. Mostly because of the vodka and the painkillers, but also because if you appear on the cover of OUT magazine, you must be gay or bisexual or whatever. Which he probably is. He doesn't think about it too much anymore. Thinking makes his face hurt too.

Diego is waiting for them when they disembark at La Guardia. Gabe's dog is in the backseat of the car and Gabe crawls in with him, wrestling him on the seat and leaving Pete to sit up front. Diego snorts with the same kind of derision that Gabe specializes in, informs Pete he's going to need stitches, ice and more vodka. Pete thinks _less_ vodka might have avoided the incident altogether, but it was a long wait on the plane to leave New York to get to Seattle and then a long night in Seattle partying and then. Vodka had been essential.

It's about two weeks later when Gabe shows up on his doorstep. Ash is almost done with her _Chicago_ run and Pete's still sitting around in the same shirt he's been wearing since he can remember. It's gotten to the point that Bronx just cries when he sees him and he thinks he's capable of winning a body odor contest with a Way brother. Also, he has a beard.

"You look like shit." Leave it to Gabe to sugar coat things. "Seriously, facial hair? Only three types of people should have facial hair, dude. Porn stars, old Russian women in the movies and...huh, no. Just the two."

"Hassidic Jews."

"Touche."

"And George Clooney can totally pull off stubble."

"You look like you belong on a seventies family show. Like 'Little House on the Prairie' or 'Gentle Ben'."

"That can be my new career. I can see the JMont article now, 'Wentz went from the widespread success of Fall Out Boy to guest starring on Love Boat reruns and doing local appearances as Sasquatch'."

"You could do one of those 'In Search Of...' shows. Totally meet Leonard Nimoy." Gabe wrinkles his nose. "Holy fuck, man. Change your clothes. Shower. You're not on a tour bus. No one misses being on a tour bus. You're frightening your child. And me. We're both afraid of the bad man."

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, don't make me come in there and scrub the hard to reach places for you." Gabe goes over and picks up Bronx. "Little man, what did I tell you about taking care of your father. You're the adult in this relationship, remember?"

"You're not funny."

"I'm fucking hilarious," Gabe informs him. "Shower. I'll order food."

"I'm not hungry."

"In that case, I'll just order tofu."

"Fuck you, get pizza like a normal human." He disappears into the bathroom and sheds his clothes. The hot water feels good, and he rubs his hand over the beard. It's tempting to shave it, but he thinks about Joe and Andy and Patrick, and just lets the water pound against it and his face. He dries off and dresses in clean clothes and just puts the others in the trash. It's easier, and it beats Gabe to the punch. "Did Ash send you?"

"No. I could hear the psychic cries of your soul, begging me to talk you into shaving that dead animal off your face. You're fucking your aura, man."

"Kinky." He comes back into the living room, passing through to the kitchen for beers. He glances at the clock and puts them back, grabbing two Red Bulls instead and a sippy cup of juice for Bronx. He hands a can to Gabe and then sits on the couch next to him. Bronx bites the head of his stuffed Yoda and ignores them both.

"Idle hands are the devil's tools."

"Do you believe in the devil?"

"We're not going to have the Judaism discussion again, Pete. Remember the Santa Claus Debacle of 2005?"

"Hey, you brought him up."

"You need a hobby."

"I have a hobby. Well, I have a family."

"Yeah. And enough frantic energy for thirty men. You need a hobby or Ash is going to be arrested when they find you in pieces in the freezer. Fortunately, it will be considered self-defense since you'll have driven her to it by not sleeping, constantly talking and whispering Patrick's name in bed."

"I do those things all the time."

"So let's circumvent things now while we're still ahead." Gabe gets up and grabs the laptop, closing tabs that earn Pete _looks_.

"Google alerts."

"That's no excuse for Yo Gabba Gabba."

"What are you doing? Maybe I'm doing business, you know? Possibly I am making deals. Moving. Shaking."

"You're growing a depression beard and pretty soon all you'll eat is potatoes."

"All you eat is french fries that you steal from outside hotel rooms."

"Totally different. Where do you want to go?"

"What?"

"You're going on vacation. You. The wife. The kid. You're going on vacation and you're going to like it."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Pick or I pick for you."

"Hawaii."

"Boooooooooooooooooooooring."

"Alaska."

"Yawn."

"France."

"Awesome, but no." He fucks around on Expedia for a while. "Give me your credit card."

"Um...let me think. No."

"I'll put it on mine and you'll still end up paying for it. Give me your card, bitch."

"I hate you."

"I know." Gabe books flights before Pete can even see where he's booking them _to_. "But you'll thank me too. Or Ash will. Either way, I win."

"She won't thank you with sex."

Gabe grins and takes a drink, grabbing the remote and flipping to some football game. "You keep believing that, buddy. Now shut up and watch the game."

"I hate football."

"This isn't football."

"I played soccer, remember?"

"No. You played football. This is rugby for pussies. Now shut up. And I hope you have cash, because the pizza'll be here in a few."  



End file.
